oh, love your flaws and live for your mistakes
by long time brother
Summary: bellamy / clarke: Murphy pushes Clarke into the river. Bellamy punches him, snarls, "She can't swim, asshole," and dives in after her. There's a jacket and a necklace, too.


**A/N**: I swear Bellamy and Clarke have so much chemistry together - the electricity is enough to power all of London! Okay, so I'm exaggerating like crazy but I've grown to really love this pair. HERE'S HOPING THEY GET TOGETHER. HEAR MY PLEA, WRITERS.

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**oh, love your flaws and live for your mistakes**

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_'Resilience is all about being able to overcome the unexpected. Sustainability is about survival. The goal of resilience is to thrive.'_

**Jamais Cascio**

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It was a mistake to bring Murphy, Clarke thinks as she kneels next to the bed of seaweed and tears at it with the surprisingly good knife Octavia had stolen from Bellamy. Clear water laps at her soaked jeans but Clarke doesn't care; as long as she stays away from the depths, she's perfectly fine.

The aggressive, hard-hearted teenager had done nothing but kick at plants and argue with Clarke throughout the whole journey. Not to mention his excessive use of the nickname Clarke had somehow acquired but nevertheless loathed—_princess_.

"Hey, princess," Murphy calls as Clarke's head snaps up.

"Give me a minute, Murphy."

She takes her time, rebelliously cutting up the seaweed as slowly as she can before storing it away safely in the pack that swings around her hip. The only reason Murphy is even here is because nobody is allowed to go out of the camp without anybody else and Finn was busy. Clarke glances up to see Murphy stab at a tree trunk with his knife and rolls her eyes. She'd rather have _Bellamy_ for company, she thinks.

Woah, Murphy's presence must be making her go cuckoo.

Clarke brushes off her hands and gets up. "Okay, what is it?"

"See this?" he jabs at the trunk now bearing his initial, _M_.

"Yeah. It's a tree."

Murphy glowers at her but continues, "Blood."

He gestures at a suspiciously thick purple substance spilling over the trunk softly and Clarke's eyes roam the tree until she finds the culprit—a mutated flower, its velvety petals dripping with rich purple.

"Murphy, that's—,"

"Think it was a Grounder?"

"Murph—,"

"I'll tell Bellamy."

"It's a flower, Murphy."

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So Murphy feels stupid.

And when Murphy feels stupid, it usually proves to be bad for the people around him. There's only one person around him.

"Come on," Clarke says as she spies the camp. "We can go around this lake. It'll be quicker."

"No, we should go that way," Murphy jerks a stubborn finger towards the obvious longer route. '_That'll_ be quicker."

She throws him a strange look and there's a call from the camp so her head snaps back. Murphy can practically _feel_ the princess's withering glare as Bellamy heads their way quickly.

It annoys him.

Grates on his nerves. Presses his buttons (though that's not very hard to do).

To see this princess prancing her way around camp, acting as though she knows all like they were all back on the freaking Ark.

Murphy's never known luxury like she has, never known freedom, never known anything other than the Ark and its compressing rules but he's here, now. He's here, on Earth, and he's free, free to do anything.

He stomps after Clarke who's already pushed forwards and calls, "Princess."

She rolls her eyes and turns around. "Murphy, I told you to stop calling me that—,"

"Yeah, Murphy," Bellamy's drawl resounds around the forest, "she only wants me to call her princess."

Clarke glares at Bellamy who simply smirks so Murphy says, "You think you're so special, don't you?"

The atmosphere goes noticeably colder.

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Bellamy knows what's going to happen before it happens.

He sees it.

The flash of fury that flickers through Murphy's eyes and rests in his knuckles, where his whole body shakes with impending anger. Murphy's closer to Clarke than he is and the pressure in the air has increased visibly, the atmosphere crackling with unresolved tension.

Clarke feels it, too. She's not stupid but Murphy continues, words dripping like poisonous venom.

"Smart little princess," he spits as Bellamy edges closer, panic beginning to surge through his veins, "thinking you're so much better than everyone else. You think you're such a good person, don't you?"

She turns to exchange confused looks with Bellamy and that's when Murphy strikes.

"Well, you're not," he bites and pushes Clarke into the river.

Horror engulfs Bellamy and fury takes over, settling over him like a white-hot blanket, he can't hear anything, he can't see anything, _Clarke_, she's drowning—

Clarke struggles in the water and it's when she goes under that Bellamy finally snaps out of his mental panic. He tears off his jacket, throwing it away carelessly (his favourite jacket, the first one he'd ever gotten from his baby sister) and clenches his fists, enraged. Raw fury strangles him with raging fingers and Bellamy swings his fist into Murphy's face.

There's a sickening crunch as Murphy, stunned, recoils and yells, "What the hell, man?"

Bellamy snarls, "She can't swim, asshole!"

He dives in after Clarke.

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It's _freezing_.

The cold water seizes Clarke; it grabs on to her with icy, crawling fingers and won't let go, as she struggles for air. She tries with all her might to surge upwards but the water grasps at her and yanks her down.

Clarke can't breathe, _she can't breathe_, the water, it's creeping up her spine like frozen thorns and vicious brambles that claw at her in icy despair, she can't—_please_, someone, anyone, she can't _breathe_—

And then Clarke feels air like she's never felt before, feels safety like she's never felt before.

Two tight, muscled arms wrap around her and firmly pulls her out of the waters to meet glorious Earth sunshine that streams down on her relentlessly. Clarke collapses onto the ground, the beautiful, beautiful ground, as she splutters out lake water and she gasps for air.

Bellamy's strong arms are still loosely wrapped around her, lean muscles surrounding her protectively as he coughs up water himself but his eyes are focused on Clarke who breathes raggedly, clutching almost absentmindedly onto his arm. Her fingers are frozen on his bare arms and Bellamy has enough energy to grasp her fingers, pressing into them to rub warmth into them urgently.

"You okay?" Bellamy asks gruffly as he gently pulls Clarke to her feet.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine."

Clarke nods although Bellamy can see the goose bumps forming on her skin and she shivers uncontrollably, as he rubs her fingers quickly. Murphy's gone, Bellamy realises as he glances around them quickly and spies something familiar, strewn over a small bush not too far away.

"Wait here."

Bellamy's back in minutes and he's got his jacket (his favourite jacket, the first one he'd ever gotten from his baby sister), settling it over Clarke's shoulders protectively. She gives him a gentle smile, a nice yet strange change from the usual withering glowers, before saying gratefully, "Thanks, Bellamy."

Bellamy nods his head towards her quickly as they make their way back to camp. His arms are still around Clarke although he tries to persuade himself that it's just because she's still cold as Clarke tries to convince herself not to let out a few pretend shivers just to have Bellamy's arms around her. They go slowly, in a slightly awkward silence, helping each other over fallen logs as warmth washes over the two, both blaming the sudden heat on the weather although the sun does not shine that brightly.

When they are just a stone's throw away from the camp gate, Clarke bites into her bottom lip hesitantly and darts a glance towards him. "You could have let me die," she says and Bellamy stops in his tracks. "It would have been the easiest thing for you to do—I'm a pain to you at camp. Everybody already follows you and you wouldn't have any more trouble from me."

"And where's the fun in that?"

His signature smirk is a little less taunting and more affectionate as Clarke returns it with another uncertain smile and the two continue. They break away when they get to camp. Bellamy deals with Murphy in his own way while Clarke busies herself with sorting out herbal remedies and checking over recent injuries.

When night falls, Clarke's fingers are clutching his jacket and his woody scent fills her tent warmly, reminding her of him.

When night falls, Bellamy's fingers tighten over Clarke's favourite necklace, the one that had slipped free in the waters, and it reminds him of her.

They fall into better sleep than they ever have before.

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The next day, Clarke's in Bellamy's tent, slipping his jacket discreetly inside.

The next day, Bellamy's in Clarke's tent, slipping her necklace discreetly inside.

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**fin**


End file.
